


Hidden Agenda

by Limited_Patience, turante



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crowley's Flickr Albums, M/M, Past Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 12:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limited_Patience/pseuds/Limited_Patience, https://archiveofourown.org/users/turante/pseuds/turante
Summary: Crowley always has a hidden motive, even if sometimes it’s just to embarrass the older Winchester.





	Hidden Agenda

That morning Crowley was showing Sam photos on his phone, making the hunter laugh so hard he had tears in the corner of his eyes.

"And this is when we spent a week in Texas. Hello Dean."

The older Winchester showed up in his robe, poured himself some coffee and walked over to join the other two at the war table. "What are you doing?" he asked to both of them. "Why are you here?" this time directly at Crowley.

"Crowley was showing me what you did when you ran off together."

"We also went to a rodeo. Your brother is quite the cowboy," Crowley said with just a hint of innuendo in his voice. "He even convinced me to wear a Cowboy hat."

"Impossible," Sam replied, and Dean's polite smile froze on his face when he remembered exactly the situation Crowley was talking about.

"Lucky for you, I have proof," the demon's finger was swiping forward on the screen of his smartphone, and Dean yelled, "NO!" trying to stop him.

"Calm down, dude, I've seen you embarrass yourself far worse than this when you're drunk." Sam reassured him, pointing at the screen.

"Like when he massacres karaoke?" Crowley replied, scrolling through the gallery until he reached a video. He wiggled his eyebrows and Sam pushed the little triangle to make it start.

"You filmed this?" Dean groaned, as Sam was busy holding his laughter and mouthing "you have to send this to me" to Crowley, who winked at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I recorded all of our best moments together," Crowley's voice was low and Dean's body was reacting to it in a familiar manner, much to his dismay.

When it was over, Crowley sent the video to Sam, who thanked him with a glance, got up from his chair, put his hand on Dean's shoulder and went to refill his coffee mug humming "I'm too sexy" under his breath as he went.

"You didn't keep any other photo, right?" Dean hissed menacingly as he took Sam's vacated seat, his temper flaring. 

"Of course I did," Crowley replied casually, putting away his phone, "but those are in my personal folder. Locked. I keep them for their sentimental value."

"a.k.a. to jack off," Dean mentally translated, rolling his eyes. "I don't wanna know," he said aloud instead.

Crowley smirked ruefully. "And as blackmail," he added.

Dean narrowed his eyes, "you wish."

Crowley's mouth curved into a slow grin, "Oh, Samantha…" he called, but Dean put a hand on his mouth to shut him up.

"Don't. You. Dare." He hissed at the demon, irritated. Sam turned, and Dean shook his head, dismissing him with a "nothing."

Crowley licked his hand and Dean took it away, with a disgusted "gross," wiping it on Crowley's jacket.

The demon brushed his jacket off and raised his eyebrow. "Nothing personal, Squirrel, it's just smart for me to have some kind of leverage on you. Who knows when I might need a little favour from you. Or a booty call."

"That's not gonna happen," Dean told him in no uncertain terms, lowering his voice to finish the sentence in a whisper, "ever again."

"Pity," Crowley commented, but didn't push the matter.

Dean straightened up and sized Crowley up with a look. "By the way, you didn't come here to show Sam your photo albums. So what do you want?"

Crowley pointed at the kitchen, "I also brought pancakes." He paused, "and pie."

Dean looked at him, unimpressed, waiting for the rest of it.

Sam came back to the table with a plateful of pancakes, answering Dean's question on behalf of the king of hell. "He has information for us, and wants us to do the dirty work for him, as usual."

"Lemme get breakfast first." Dean got up and went straight to the pie, but then he hesitated with the knife in his hand. He looked back at Crowley, then at the pie. He sighed, grabbed plate and fork, and walked back to the table holding a small pile of pancakes, not wanting to give any satisfaction to Crowley. "So what do you want?" he asked again.

Crowley took a file out of his jacket and tossed it on the table, giving them the details on a hunt that also happened to be convenient for him.

"Use some of your minions," Dean scuffed, he didn't like to be treated like an errand boy by their part-time ally.

"Ah, but you see, officially I have to respect an old alliance pact that nobody thought to run through a decent lawyer." Crowley studied the Winchesters' faces for a moment, "I'll dumb it down for you. If I kill these idiots, their friends will make my life hell, pun intended, but if you two do it... No one can appeal the pact, since you do not work for me and we have no official ties."

"And to us? What comes of it?" Dean asked, studying the demon's face.

"You get the glory and the spoils." Crowley paused for dramatic effect, "and my gratitude."

"Your gratitude?" Sam sounded skeptical.

Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why don't you put something more interesting on the plate?"

Crowley reclined on the chair, crossed his legs and tented his fingers in front of him. "Let's see, what do I have that you could possibly want?" he asked, looking pointedly at Dean.

"Some special weapon, lost lore, anything that could be useful in our line of work," Sam offered.

Crowley kept looking at Dean, as if he was waiting for him to say the very thing they both knew he'd never say, not because they were in front of his brother, but because he was too noble to waste an opportunity like that on himself.

Dean cleared his throat, "another hand of god?" he asked.

"Not many of those around, besides, wouldn't that be a little too much for such a small favour?"

"Would it be?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows, and tapped one finger against his mouth. "I was thinking more like an illuminated manuscript about fae that I have in my personal collection."

Dean looked at Sam, who nodded appreciatively. "We don't have much info on the fae in the archives, we could use more."

"So… agreed," Dean reluctantly conceded.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys," Crowley extended his hand to shake Sam's.

Dean offered his hand as well, expecting a cheeky comment that never came. Crowley shook his hand and lingered maybe a little too long, looking straight into his eyes as he did. For his part, Dean squeezed maybe a little harder than was polite, holding his gaze.

And Sam interrupted their silent conversation, "Come on guys, you can have your dick measuring contest later, in private. Dean, let's get on to this."

Dean shook his head and let go of Crowley's hand; his brother was right, they had a job to do and he needed to focus on it.

"Call me when you're done," Crowley said, rising from the chair and straightening his clothes. "Happy hunting, boys." That said, he walked to the exit and presumably disappeared.

Dean grabbed his coffee, walked over to the food, got a piece of pie and sat back down next to Sam, who had already opened his laptop. His brother looked at his plate and threw an unbelieving stare at him. "You're a pig."

"So, what did he ask us to hunt down? Vampires? Werewolves?" Dean inquired, pausing the fork in front of his mouth. "Please, don't say witch."

"It's not a witch." Sam paused for comedic effect, "it's a whole coven."

"Son of a bitch. I hate witches."

"Yeah, me too," Sam agreed, but then they started forming a plan that could basically be boiled down to, as Dean put it, "we go in, find the witches, burn them, we go out. Piece of cake."

They went in, killed the witches, got out relatively unscathed, if a little singed around the edges, and phoned Crowley to get him to uphold his side of the bargain. They eventually met back at the bunker.

Crowley approached them with a thick tome held between his gloved hands. "Please handle it carefully, it's more than 500 years old."

Sam hurried to put on his gloves and take the book from the king of hell. "Well, thank you Crowley." Everything had gone down so smoothly that Dean was feeling suspicious. Crowley left and Sam put the book down on the table to start cataloguing its contents. 

"Sam," Dean asked as he watched his brother carefully turn the parchment pages covered in brilliant inks and gold inlays, "did he just pay us with some fairy kamasutra?"

Sam tilted his head to follow the painted fae performing wildly imaginative sexual acts all over the pages, "Yeah, seems like it."

"I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch once and for all," he promised, grabbing his jacket and car keys on his way to the door.


End file.
